


A Proper Burial

by daxamite



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxamite/pseuds/daxamite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Church takes it upon himself to bury his own body and makes some discoveries along the way. Rated T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proper Burial

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Pradeda role-play community over a year ago, and I never thought to post it anywhere else until now. At the time, I was not overly familiar with Halo or the Red vs. Blue canon, so forgive any mistakes I might have made.

5 months. Church had been dead for _5 months_ , and no one had bothered to bury his body. That was assuming the birds hadn't already descended on his corpse, which was no doubt bound to be delicious after harvesting in the god awful sun. It became increasingly clear that his comrades had no intention of paying their respects, so the Blue team leader resolved to just doing the fucking burial himself.

**Step 1: Trudge your sorry ass up to the trail you were murdered at. Shovel required. Dig a huge fucking hole in the ground and make it roomy - you'll be there for a while.**

He'd need a host to work in. Borrowing Lopez's had been easy enough - the fucker sleeps standing up! Church was a gentlemanly enough Commanding Officer and had every intention of returning the robot's body, as well as the shovel that had been lying outside of their base, of course. Eventually... Alright, fuck that, finders keepers.

Normally, Church would have made Tucker and Caboose do the bitch work of digging the hole, but after seeing how they treated his body when he was _alive_... Yeah, there was no way in hell they were touching his corpse. Disrespectul cockbites. The leader let a few grunts to escape through his teeth, gritted in frustration as he dug the last of the rubble from the pit.

**Step 2: Drag your lifeless body into its new home in the ground.**

Bending down on one armored knee, the Spartan took a hold of the stiff hand nearest him and roughly tugg- "FUCK!"

...So, this was pretty gay - hovering over his own dead body, entertwining his fingers with those of the now dismembered arm. Only after taking a few deep breaths and shaking the creeping feeling of just violating his own corpse out of his system did the private notice how _clean_ the cut between his shoulder and arm was. Bringing the limb closer to his face, Church made out the rusty base of what had to be a skeletal frame; surrounding it were masses of chipped circuit boards and broken wires, all threatening to spark against one another. This was awkward. Not only was he pretty positive that this was the exact spot he had been shot at, but who else could it be? There was always the possibility that the Reds planted a robot here who might have gotten caught in crossfire, but that didn't explain why it donned the same cobalt blue armor as Church did. Crazy fucking coincidences, and although this clearly wasn't his body, he'd already started the job and now he'd finish shoving this poor fucker into the ground.

**Step 3: Nonchalantly stuff the remainder of the robotic corpse down the pit.**

"Christ, this is fan _fucking_ tastic." Yet, at the back of his mind, the Blue team leader couldn't deny that more bizarre things have happened.

As he loaded the makeshift grave with piles upon piles of the rocky terrain, he persistently scanned the verge of the mountain path for anyone who might have witnessed his discovery. The more time passed, the more his fleeting looks came in shorter intervals. No one needed to know anything about this. His own team didn't even give enough of a shit to bury _him_ months ago; as far as Church was concerned, this robot was none of their business. Chances were they would call him a pussy for even burying a member of the Red team at all.

Yup, absolutely nothing to see here. Just a not-so-human body buried in a not-so-cleverly placed hole.

With one last glance at his resting site, he picked up the shovel and began to make his way down the mountainous slope towards the base. Lingering momentarily, he muttered, "Rest in peace, man."

He desperately needed a drink. Arsenic, preferably.

      


End file.
